


Horror Week 2019

by UnholyHelbig



Series: Pitch Perfect Horror Week [3]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angels, Demons, Doppelganger, F/F, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 11:50:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20873747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyHelbig/pseuds/UnholyHelbig
Summary: This is a collection of submissions for Horror week 2019, enjoy!





	Horror Week 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: These might be a little out of order from the actual prompts of the week, as I will finish some stories sooner than others depending on my actual interest in them.

**Day #2: Accidentally Summoning a Demon **

**The hospital’s corridors **were bleach white. There was no color to the hallways or even the rooms. Just an undeniable white that countered the fluorescent lights with a brightness of their own. Walls were devoid of posters telling patients to keep their heads up and instead were replaced with chain-locked doors. Deadbolted and impossible to move.

Beca Mitchell chose not to look at those doors, the numbers painted in black and chipping away to reveal even more white. She could still tell that they counted up in even numbers. A little window carved out of each metal slab to give the patient, the prisoner, a better view of the world. Which just happened to be a blank nothingness.

“Don’t’ feel bad for them.” The guard walking with her snapped her from her haze. One of those women who had probably gone straight from the military into a psychiatric hospital. She wasn’t like the nurses dressed in a sunny yellow. She had a gun attached to her belt and her features were stoic with knowledge. “They made choices that threw them in here, just like you made the choice to visit your friend. Most of them are killers and crooks just trying to seem insane.”

“Do you ever believe them?” Beca took to asking instead of denying what the woman had said.

“You can’t believe anything other than what’s in front of you in my line of work, honey.”

Beca decided to leave it at that. It was a cynical way to look at the world, but she understood. Women who drowned their own kids, and men who had purposely driven a van through a campground without stopping. All claiming insanity and sticking to the guilty plea. She didn’t strive to make eye contact with any of them, caged and desperate for an ounce of human contact.

They walked a few more feet before a long stretch of windows let in some natural light. It soothed Beca, seeing the stretch of barbed wire and chain link fence wasn’t the same as a beach view, but it told of a world further from this one.

The guard fumbled with the keys on her belt before pulling one covered with masking tape to the front. Room 113 was written in sharpie sloppily. “Right, well, I will be right outside of this door. You feel uncomfortable, or in danger at all, then you just pound on the wall three times and I’ll pull you out. Handle her.”

“What will you do?” Beca’s voice was tight, scanning over the baton she had on her leather belt, and then back to the gun that was a few inches away. “I mean, you won’t hurt her, will you?”

“Relax, sweetie, It’s a sedative.”

Beca didn’t’ know if that soothed her nerves at all but she again let the words hang in the stale air. She had the nervous instinct to play with her keys that she usually kept in her jacket pocket, but they had stripped her of the whole coat. Took her belt, and her shoelaces too. The tongues of her shoes flopped as they walked to their destination.

The metal door creaked open and the hinges groaned in exhaustion. She was hit with the instant scent of rot, not so much as fruit that had succumbed to the elements- more like an old library that was filled with leather-bound books, pages disintegrating the second gloveless fingers touched the print.

Her room was bigger than Beca would have guessed, not large, but more than a classic jail cell. It was white too, but some letters were tacked to the walls and a small window rested on the far wall, barred and then barred again. There was a metal desk and a bookshelf that was occupied to its capacity. They had started to pile on the floor next to the raised cot that had a folded blanket and one bare pillow.

Beca jumped when the door slammed behind her. The girl who was huddled up on the windowsill didn’t so much as look up from the novel in her grasp. Pale and slimmer than she remembers- Emily Junk looked dwarfed in the grey sweatpants and stained white t-shirt. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her features were shadowed by the outside light. Maybe it was a better view than the barbed wire on the other side.

“They didn’t’ tell me you were coming.” She finally said after a long bout of silence. “I would have tidied up a little bit.”

Beca scanned the girl with wide eyes, those greenish-brown ones finally finding hers with an uncharacteristically simple smile. Too simple for the girl that was trapped in a mandated insane asylum, though, she had read somewhere that they weren’t supposed to call it that anymore. Something about rehabilitation. She had a feeling that Emily was never going to find her way back into society.

“Lighten up a little, it was a joke. It’s okay to laugh.” She spoke again, putting the book down on the nearby desk and adjusting her position so her feet were hanging off her perch. “You look good, California has made you tan.”

“I never went. I put the album on hold for a little, until the trial-“She swallowed thickly, trying to gauge a reaction, but she never got one. “Things need to settle down at home before I make a new one.”

Beca thought she registered a look of guilt from Emily, but she was standing before the other girl was completely sure. Crossing the room to set the book down on the cot and then herself in the corner. Beca could feel the chill of the metal door on her back, almost through her t-shirt. She was pining for that jacket that they had stolen and housed in a plastic bin.

“You know, the only people who visit me in here are my lawyers. And Aubrey that one time. That was in the beginning though.”

“You killed someone, Emily, can you blame them?” A type of fire licked at her stomach. She was told not to say anything, not to bring up why Emily was in here in the first place, that it could damage her recovery process. Beca quickly clenched her jaw shut and looked away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“You don’t’ have to tip-toe around me, Beca.”

Emily was standing again, directly across from her in the small expanse of blank space not occupied by an item of furniture. Her hands were slack in the pockets of her sweatpants. “What’d they tell you, that I’m liable to snap? To forget everything they’re trying to do to me? Not likely. You can’t erase something like that, no matter how pokey they get with their sticks.”

Beca’s eyes hardened “Why’d you do it, then? Because I’m not buying this whole demon excuse.”

It had all been so fast, raining the night that Beca got the call from Aubrey. Aubrey who had found Emily covered in black syrup in the center of a salt drawn circle. She had panicked, thought it was the younger girl's blood. That’s when she found the neighbor in the bathtub, draining slowly and meticulously. Beca never questioned the design the salt was in or the book that was opened beside her to a blank page. None of it made sense.

“You of all people should be the most willing to accept _that_ as an excuse.” She lifted a brow. “After all, Beca you were the one that told us to stay out of the basement. Said it was haunted. I thought it was just a prank on the new girl- a hazing of sorts.”

Beca’s jaw clenched as she watched the girl meander back over to the desk with hard eyes. She ran her fingers over the dusty surface until they reached the spine of the book. Emily’s stare was filled with longing.

“What exactly were you doing down there all those years?” Emily glanced back up, stray hair falling into her eyes. “raising the dead was my first guess. But then I found that book of yours. It was naive to leave it out in the open like that. Though- I must admit, it was a bit of a challenge to translate all that Latin.”

She was still for a moment, who body rigid as if it were frozen in place. Emily wasn’t as washed as she had thought. It was a simple clean up, hide the book and she looked like nothing more than a girl in the middle of a salt circle covered in someone else’s blood.

Beca let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. What do you want, then?”

Emily looked taken aback by the question. What did she want? Beca was hoping deep down inside that the weight of something like that would puzzle her- the start of a smirk crept against her upper lip. It was unfortunate Beca thought, that someone as sweet as Emily had stumbled upon her book and had read from the darkest page of them all. A cruel trick. Beca almost felt sorry for her in the aspect.

“you’re going to get me out of here,” Emily said.

“Now, I think that’s asking a little too much, don’t you? I mean, you sealed the deal the second you opened your mouth about demons and some ancient spell to summon them. It’s called a secret art for a reason, Em.”

“I’ll tell them about you,” Her voice was flooded with panic. That was another mistake Emily made, confusing hope with the reality of one of her storybooks. “Your book, and your sacrifices, and your… your magic.”

“And who exactly will believe you?”

Beca could smell the bubblegum medicine that they made Emily swallow twice, maybe three times, a day. She was that close. Could see the paleness in her skin and the timid flow in her stance. She had bruises from IV”s in her hand and equally as dark ones around her wrists from straps Beca had failed to notice before.

“Emily, you know how much I adore you and your naive nature, but it’s just that, isn’t it? You say anything about me and they’ll just up your dosages. I think you got confused by my visit here. But if you stick to the program, maybe they’ll let you out one day.” Beca took an even step back. “I’ll keep visiting you, don’t worry.”

She swallowed thickly and tucked her arms closer to her body. Beca couldn’t tell if it was anger or something more. Stirring in her usually placid nature. “Can you at least stop the nightmares?” She asked.

Beca lilted her head with a dark smile and banged on the wall three times.


End file.
